The Dark Disciple (The Daybreak Saga Book 2)

by Dan Neil

  Whoever’s contacting the Wild King is doing so from within the palace; the sooner I catch them, the greater my reward—

  Just then, the door flew open, making the Lord of Shadows jump. Myrddin entered in a huff.

  “Gaheris, I have a few questions for you.”

  “I’m busy; learn to knock.”

  “It’s urgent,” Myrddin countered. “Official business of the King’s Adviser on Magic—and the King’s Keeper of Secrets.”

  Gaheris slowly looked up from his papers. “Yes, Myrddin? What do you need to know?”

  The wizard’s gaze was piercing as he said, “I need to know why the Eternal Laws of Magic have stopped working.”

  Gaheris’s stomach twisted.

  He knows. Aion knows how, but he knows.

  After clearing his throat, Gaheris asked, “For what reason are you spouting such an outlandish theory? Have your faculties finally abandoned you?”

  The old man threw his arms up in protest. “I would suppose the person responsible for the Eternal Laws might know when one of them is broken! And in particularly grand fashion, I might add.”

  Gaheris made no effort to hide his contempt for Myrddin. That ancient cretin was preventing someone with true vision from becoming the King’s Adviser on Magic; it was such a shame how he clung to life.

  Narrowing his eyes, he hissed, “And please tell me exactly which law was broken.”

  “Earlier this morning, Lorinal LeBlanc, of the Fifth Magician’s Division, was targeted by shadow telepathy. This caused her to seek out her fellow Fifth Magician’s Division member, Keia Atlos, while she was sleeping and speak to her in the voice of young Atlos’s missing brother. She then assaulted Keia.”

  Gaheris tried to stay calm as jitters rose in his chest. Something had already happened. “What makes you think it was shadow telepathy?”

  “Because poor Lorinal was unaware of any intrusion. It must have been shadow telepathy; she doesn’t remember a thing. The girl is in hysterics, and she’s under the delusion that Keia did this to her. We had to remove her from the division because she won’t stop attacking Keia.”

  Gaheris leaned back. “Have you considered that possibility?”

  The wizard’s eyes widened suddenly, then slowly narrowed. “You have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “I believe we are talking about Keia Atlos, a girl who, up until a few months ago, was a career criminal—a thief. She helped the man who nearly made off with your vault!”

  The wizard’s voice was filled with cold fury as he retorted, “Perhaps you’re forgetting who is responsible for the defeat of that very same man.”

  Gaheris rolled his eyes. “She could only defeat him because he trusted her, and she betrayed him. You’re defending a girl who would abandon the kingdom the second it suits her.”

  “You may think you know her because you spy on her from the shadows, but that young woman would never inflict this upon one of her comrades. Even if she could—Aion be damned. After what she’s been through, you, of all people, have no right—” he cut himself off and took a deep breath, turning away.

  Gaheris’s rage was rising. “Be careful what you insinuate. I will check with the laws to make sure they are still operational. Keep in mind that you have exactly zero evidence to back up your claims of any sort of spying or shadow—”

  “That’s a bald-faced lie, and we both know it,” Myrddin stated as he straightened, trying to regain his composure. “I know all about what you and Symon have been doing. By Gaea, you think you’re keeping anyone safe? You think you can keep out the light forever? You would build an empire on lies and secrets and expect it to have a solid foundation?”

  “And what do you intend to do?” Gaheris asked coolly as he leaned back in his chair. “Bring them to light?”

  “I am considering it.”

  “That would be an act of treason,” Gaheris said. “A personal declaration of war against the king. To betray his interests—”

  “You are treason incarnate,” Myrddin said. “You allowed shadow telepathy to be used on your own people. You should be ashamed! If I were king, I’d banish you to the north!”

  “If you were king?” Gaheris glared. “That’s a rather ambitious statement—an indication of something, perhaps?”

  “You little worm,” Myrddin growled. “I’ll not be patronized by the man assigned to spy on his own people—the man who allows the enemy into the kingdom with open arms!”

  “I will look into these claims—in time,” Gaheris said. “There are many other phantoms that need exterminating.”

  “Do not treat this as if it were some joke,” Myrddin said. “You think you know what’s out there, but I’ve seen it. This is not some trivial matter; it’s a matter of us and the enemy.”

  “I don’t think any of the many claims of lawbreaking in the land are trivial, Myrddin. I’m just scheduled too tightly, what with the sheer number of claims I have to deal with. I will get to yours, but it will take time.”

  Myrddin shook his head before departing. Gaheris sat back and took a deep breath.

  How in the bloody hell did he find out?

  The wizard couldn’t be allowed to interfere with the king’s orders. Myrddin wasn’t telling him everything he knew—perhaps he knew too much.

  Chapter 11

  The Lost Prince

  Day 111 of the Season of Aion, 1020 YAR

  Scipion’s eyes were locked in horror on the New Dawners raiding the Green Creek Settlement. Once the village was secure, one of the better-equipped attackers waved a red flag.

  The restless members of New Dawn parted as a fully armored man on horseback slowly moved through their ranks. He was the only one amongst the dirty, ragged bandits who wore clean, shining armor.

  Scipion’s jaw dropped. That’s Anton Day; he’s come here personally.

  The now-youngest Day brother’s sickly red eyes were visible through the slits in his silver helm, and he carried himself with a commanding aura. His entire army hushed as he lifted his helm and revealed a pale, thin face.

  Anton addressed the two. “You must be Scipion and Matalo.” His eyes focused on the former. “You’re as ugly as they say. A scorpion indeed, but not as much of a tactician as your admirers boast—suppose I shouldn’t have expected better.”

  Laughter erupted from the New Dawners, and a wolfish smile broke out on the man’s face.

  Matalo was unable to hold his tongue. “You’re a Day. Come to avenge your little brother?”

  Lady Anasia glared at him. “Try not to anger them,” she replied coldly.

  Anton’s eyes flickered with hatred. “Jomar was my brother through blood, yes. But he was stupid. I’m glad he’s gone, though you did choose the worst possible time to kill him. We might lose as much as a third of our harvest thanks to you. I must thank you, though; that lovely young lady there will warm my bed tonight—all because you led me here.”

  Lady Anasia did not reply, but the blood drained from her face as he spoke. Scipion’s eye caught a metal glint—some sort of small weapon in her hands.

  Matalo growled, “If you want to kill us, kill us—but leave them out of it! You have no quarrel with them.”

  “I have no quarrel with many people,” the Day brother retorted. “And still they die. I don’t intend to kill you all just yet. No, death would be a mercy; so, life will be your punishment. You’re in such good shape—good enough to make decent workers.”

  Matalo’s eyes narrowed. “We won’t work for scum like you.”

  “We’ll put some Nertha in you and see how many doses it takes before you beg for it. Everyone says they’ll resist, that they won’t do it, but that’s not how your brain works.” An eerie smile crept over Anton’s face. “Besides, you burned many of our fields and killed several of our workers. Those bodies must be replaced for our new ha
rvest.”

  Matalo cried, “I’ll die before I work for your filth!”

  “You just might if you keep running your mouth. I’ve heard that one before, too. Everyone thinks they’re special, that they won’t work for a man like me, but they all do. You all think you’re the exception—but really, you’re just bags of meat that I now own. It takes some longer than others to realize.”

  Lady Anasia held her head high. “No man owns us.”

  “Fiery,” the Day said. “I like that very much, but you’ll be singing a different tune tomorrow morning. Grippo, gather their weapons and see that each of them is tied and bound for their doses. We’ll be camping in this lovely little town tonight.”

  The man called Grippo shouted twenty or so names. Under his direction, half searched the town and nearby encampment for weapons, while the other half secured the captives. Their hands were bound behind their backs and attached to six others, who were then arranged in a circle.

  Scipion, Matalo, Zel Yano, Lady Anasia, and Zel Xaen were all part of the same circle. Silence hung over them, but there was unrest amongst the New Dawners as well. Whispers flew amongst the bandits as they set up their encampment.

  I can’t believe that this is how it all ends. Scipion stared at the ground, wanting to cry. Just another body by the side of the road. And I may as well have put them there myself.

  He felt a nudge. Matalo whispered, “They’re awfully on edge for having just won. I wonder what they’re afraid of?”

  “Quiet over there!” one of the bandits shouted. Silence followed.

  Grippo returned after the weapons were gathered. “Anton! One of our scouts has arrived and wants to report—”

  “Not so loud, you dolt!” Anton Day admonished. “Not in front of them.”

  Their voices were hushed, but Scipion still made out some details. They were being chased, it seemed.

  “...Be here by nightfall,” Grippo said worriedly. “Our scouts have seen them…outnumbered.”

  “We’re digging in. Fortify the camp—I don’t care how many there are!” the Day replied with quiet fury. He was a serious but anxious man.

  “I do not think that is wise, Anton,” Grippo tried to argue with his commander. The whispers continued until Anton left for his tent. Grippo ordered some of his men to build a makeshift wall by tearing apart Green Creek’s houses. Silence kept its hold on the settlement as the New Dawners went to work.

  “Forgive me, Lady Anasia,” Matalo whispered. “I never meant to bring them here. I’ll find a way to get us all out of here.”

  “Oh, shut up, you sob,” whispered Zel Yano. “Look at their men; they’re scared—something’s close by.”

  Still lost in despair, Scipion said, “I hope that whatever they are afraid of is not something we should fear, as well.”

  His mind was searching for a way out. They were bound to each other, all their weapons and armor were in the hands of the enemy, and they were surrounded.

  There is no way out.

  Scipion heard a familiar laugh, and his head jerked up to see the same woman. This time, she stood in the center of Green Creek. Scipion glanced around, confirming again that no one else seemed to see her. She smiled sadly at Scipion for a moment before disappearing once more.

  Who the hell is she?

  After constructing a crude wall, the New Dawners feasted upon the food they stole in front of their captives. Many New Dawners, happy with a full stomach, told stories of cruelty in the Nertha fields.

  “Don’t worry about where you’re going,” one told them. “You’ll all be dead within a few weeks, anyway. If the Nertha doesn’t kill you, one of us might.”

  “I’ve pissed on men greater than you,” another chimed in. “I mark every field hand who acts up. Malthas appreciates the little things for his offerings.”

  “I’ve seen field hands kill themselves rather than work another day,” a toothless creep added. “I saved one who tried. His head was bleeding, but we still worked him until he croaked from blood loss—stained my shoes when I threw him in a hole.”

  Scipion shuddered to think of New Dawn’s corpse pits. He and Matalo had come across more than one. Still, the prisoners picked up on their captors’ shifty eyes and nervous glances.

  “I think something is coming,” Matalo whispered. “Everyone seems nervous.”

  “If it’s Lord Mornwas, we may end up even worse off,” Scipion replied.

  “I doubt it is. If it was Lord Mornwas, they would not try to stay here. Anton isn’t stupid enough to fight him directly,” Matalo reasoned. “Lord Mornwas has twenty thousand at his disposal.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  The day passed painfully slowly. Hunger quickly set in amongst the captives as the sun descended. Grippo came to them and untied Lady Anasia.

  “Lord Day would have you in his chamber now.”

  “I will not go.”

  Grippo slapped her across the face. “You will, or I’ll gut you, and he’ll find another. Do you want to be the first to enter the pit?”

  “Don’t touch her!” Matalo cried. He stood, dragging the others attached to his wrists with them, and many followed suit and stood up.

  “Shut up!” Grippo struck Matalo, busting his lip and bloodying his face. “You’re not in control here. You’re all property of New Dawn, and you’ll act like it. You, there!” he motioned for one of his soldiers to come closer. “Take the lady to Anton’s chambers. I’m going to punish them.”

  Lady Anasia held her throbbing face and kept her back straight as she fixed the approaching soldier with a calm stare. The New Dawner tried to grab her arm, but clutching the small metal shard, she thrust the fragment into the soldier’s temple before anyone could react, killing him instantly. Grippo moved to attack Anasia, but Matalo screamed and charged, his hands behind his back. As Grippo struggled to draw his sword, Matalo crashed into his body, and those attached to him, into the enemy. Matalo bit into the man’s neck and tore free a chunk of flesh. Grippo bled furiously as he screamed, and Matalo sank his teeth in a second time. Grippo fell under the weight of the prisoners. The plated man landed with a thunderous boom, which drew the attention of every New Dawner in the area. They stood and drew their swords as Anton emerged from his tent.

  “What’s going on here?” he demanded. As soon as his eyes fell upon Grippo and the other dead soldier, he frowned angrily. “You, woman—did you do this?”

  “I will not be used by you,” she insisted. “I would sooner die.”

  Matalo shouted, “I will not let you take her!”

  “You’re proving to be more trouble than you’re worth.” Anton motioned for his men to move in. Three freed Grippo’s corpse from Matalo and bludgeoned him. The rest of the soldiers surrounded Lady Anasia, and she stabbed one before a sword slashed her calf. With a pained shout, she lost her balance and fell.

  “The robe, you idiots—she has more in the robe.” Anton sighed. “Take it off and bring her to my tent, unharmed. After I’m done, you’ll each have a go. I do like to share my conquests, after all, and she’s earned her punishment.”

  Lady Anasia struggled furiously as the New Dawners tore at her clothes to remove them. Matalo fought desperately but was beaten down.

  Suddenly, a horn sounded from within the forest. “What was that?” asked one of the bandits, panicked.

  They dropped Lady Anasia, who rearranged her tattered robe to cover herself before scrambling closer to Matalo. With trembling hands, she bandaged his swollen face with her torn cloak as best she could before attending to her own wounds.

  New Dawn’s men were forming up by the walls. Scipion heard shouts and thunderous footsteps as Anton mounted his steed and attempted to organize a defense.

  He trotted about while barking orders: “Get on the wall! Loose arrows, and thin their numbers! Get to your positions, you idiot
s!”

  The New Dawners scrambled. Scipion heard their bloodthirsty cries and horses’ hooves as the first wave of battle began. Fire spells were cast from the outside, quickly setting the wooden wall ablaze. Several New Dawners burned alive as they screamed for help.

  Anton showed little emotion as his men were killed. The wall quickly collapsed, and armored Valkhar on horses burst through the smoldering wreckage and slaughtered the undisciplined bandits.

  Scipion watched as Anton sneered and turned his horse to escape, riding off into the darkness. His men broke as well, but many were ridden down and dispatched by the shining Valkhar, begging for their lives until the bitter end. Several cloaked horsemen cast spells at the enemy, launching swords at opponents with telekinesis or hurling fireballs at the panicking foes.

  Upon seeing the prisoners, one of the armored horsemen, a man with pure white armor, removed his faceplate to reveal a well-trimmed beard. The Valkhar dismounted as his comrades continued the slaughter. His dark brown eyes appeared confused for a moment. “You are the ones who live here, correct?”

  “They are.” Matalo tipped his head toward Lady Anasia. “We are enemies of New Dawn—just like you, it seems.”

  Scipion marveled at the soldiers pushing back New Dawn; they were innumerable, a larger army than they had ever seen. The horseback mages were casting water spells to quell the fires.

  “I am glad we reached you before they sent you off. He will be pleased to hear this,” the Valkhar remarked.

  “Who will?” Matalo asked.

  “You’ll meet him soon enough.” The Valkhar drew a knife from his side and cut the others free. His fighters continued to free the remaining captives. “You’re all safe for now—though I can’t promise for the future.”

  Scipion rubbed his wrists. “What is your name?”

  “I am Zel Rybeck Kouga—Valkhar for King Logan Barradi.”

  Zel Yano scoffed. “There is no King Barradi.”

  “I do not recognize your name. Are you and your forces from Grythos?” Scipion asked.

  “I come from Xurubia,” Zel Rybeck answered. “But that does not matter. I was not a Valkhar before Bhothar’s invasion.”